


the first day of the rest of your life

by uvoshals



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uvoshals/pseuds/uvoshals
Summary: Oneshot about Jurgen realizing he does have feelings after all. Who knew?
Relationships: Brady Culture/Jurgen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	the first day of the rest of your life

The first thing his boss says to him isn’t a greeting, it’s a statement: “I’m considering downsizing. I can’t run the risk of the company faltering again.”

And Jurgen wasn’t surprised; his boss would often forgo pleasantries to get down to business as it were, only occasionally trying to be Jurgen’s friend when the mood struck him—and when they were alone. Jurgen glanced up from his clipboard and spoke, “And why does that concern me? Are you tasking me with firing some helpless mailroom intern?” He lets a breathy laugh escape his lips. 

_The thought strikes him very suddenly and briefly, if he could get fired, be freed from the monotony that the [un]life of a secretary was._

“Oh, _please—_ ,” Satan paused to lean forward in his chair slightly, “you know me, Jurgen. You know when I say downsizing, I mean _downsizing._ ” 

The sudden emphasis on the word was enough to make Jurgen’s stomach uneasy. He’d taught himself early on to not be afraid of his boss—and he wasn’t _,_ all things considered—but being confronted with what seemed more or less like a threat was enough to make him pull away. 

Noticing his secretary’s recoil, Satan eased up (not before smirking a little).

“Don’t worry, dear. I could never fire _you_.”

Jurgen rolled his eyes, silently hoping his boss noticed.

Jurgen straightened himself up before pushing their meeting forward, “So who’s the unlucky employee—”

“ _Employees_. More than one.”

A beat. Jurgen frowned.

“ _Employees_ , then. Who are they? Do I have to fire them myself?”

“I wouldn’t have called this one-on-one if I wasn’t assigning you to the task, would I?”

Jurgen’s mouth twitched into a more obvious frown. He didn’t like where this was going. Not at all.

“Most of the employees in the main office need to go. If you could handle Brady and Hugh for me, I’ll handle the rest.”

Without thinking, Jurgen shot up from his seat. 

“You can't be serious. You're telling me to fire Brady and Hugh? Why me? Why now?”

Satan’s gaze fell back upon Jurgen. It’d been a long time since he’d seen Jurgen so suddenly riled up. There was something amusing about it; something about seeing someone who always tried to keep a cool exterior all at once shedding that façade entertained Satan to no end. He loved Jurgen. He was a great employee. But it was so much fun to make him squirm.

“It’s not the first time I’ve asked you to take care of jobs like this. Why the sudden hesitation?”

“But this isn’t like those others! Sure, you’ve asked me to handle faceless, disposable demons, but these are actual, once-living employees. What would they do without this place? I don’t even know where demoted employees _go_.”

_(Not that he really wanted to know.)_

Jurgen was visibly concerned now.

This was getting better.

Satan stood up to match Jurgen’s stance—a stance Jurgen only realized he was in after Satan stood up and he had to tilt his head back to look his boss in the eyes—pressed his palms against his desk, and leaned closer to Jurgen. 

“And why do you care?”

Jurgen flinched. Satan smiled.

Why _did_ he care?

* * *

Jurgen Aleshire was never one for attachment, if you asked the man himself. If you keep your distance, you don’t get hurt. It’s what he always told himself—and yet, Jurgen always longed for companionship, for validation. He would seek it out: someone to tell him that he was alright, that he was worth keeping around. For so long, he just wanted to _belong_. He knew his past attempts were either misguided or insincere (the former of which he would have to bear the scars of for the rest of his life), but it was a feeling Jurgen could never rid himself of. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, in some twisted way, it was the last bit of his humanity he clung on to. Whatever the case, stewing on it for too long left him feeling sick, so it was better for his own sake to just shove it down and pretend like he didn’t care what anyone thought.

But then Jurgen came to Hell, and suddenly everyone _wanted_ to be his friend. 

Hugh was nice to everyone upon first meeting them. He kept up a pleasant exterior and made a point to be the moodmaker of the office. Jurgen was always unsettled by him, and only later learning of the man’s cult affiliations did the uneasiness turn to full-blown paranoia. Still, it wasn’t like Hugh was outwardly malicious or overbearing. He was just always smiling, always waving whenever Jurgen passed by. 

The real problem was Brady. 

Jurgen was completely uninterested in Brady the first time they met. But Brady was interested in Jurgen immediately.

It started small—awkward hellos exchanged while passing by and stares that lasted just a bit too long. It was just Brady sheepishly coming up with excuses to talk to Jurgen. Like some awful junior high crush, it was something that ultimately irritated Jurgen, but he wasn’t sure how to curb this new problem. Brady was persistent, if nothing else, and over time his flirting became more confident and overt. A stupid grin plastered on his face whenever he’d saunter over to Jurgen’s desk just to give him some worthless document; Jurgen always told himself he hated it.

But it was their routine. 

It was something Jurgen grew used to. Always at the same time, Brady would come in. Little to no conversation, just a small greeting and a smile. He thought that he always hated Brady’s smug grin and composure, the way he’d lean himself on Jurgen’s desk and look at him so warmly. Jurgen didn’t appreciate trying to be worn down by his co-worker’s incessant courting. He didn’t appreciate it because it was slowly _working_.

It was an odd comfort, knowing Brady would always show up just to talk to him for a minute. Something that was so trivial in the grand scheme of things that eventually became something so familiar to Jurgen. 

And just like that, in one night, it was all ruined.

His boss was more concerned with his reputation, how he was so unceremoniously interrupted and knocked off a roof to notice his secretary’s shallow breathing and refusal to take his eyes off the ground. Jurgen was dizzy, he was shaking. Everything he had tried so desperately to block out was all at once in his face. Everything that had ruined Jurgen’s life reappeared without warning—everything that brought him to this moment—had reared its ugly head.

His eyes unfocused, he stumbled his way to the back to put up the film equipment. Whatever Satan had been saying to him sounded garbled and incomprehensible; Jurgen’s body moved on its own as he attempted to put the equipment away in one of the back rooms. Brady followed; he either hadn’t noticed his co-worker’s despondence or simply brushed it off as one of his moods. 

Being the much taller of the two, Brady offered to help put the camera away.

“You looked so pissed off having to go up there. Didn’t feel like lugging around a camera, huh? Yeah, I always preferred to be in front of it myself.”

Jurgen stared into space as Brady prattled on, his words falling on deaf ears (not that he would ever notice). Jurgen couldn’t register anything Brady said to him. It was only when Brady was almost done when Jurgen spoke since his return, his gaze still not sharpening or looking up. 

“You...you like me, right?”

Brady stopped immediately, his eyes wide open and with his attention completely on Jurgen now. The camera could wait.

It was blur how they got there, just the next thing either of them knew they were in a cramped closet, furiously trying to remove the other’s clothes and hands fumbling over belt buckles. Just skin against skin, soft tongues in the dark. Brady’s words go in and out through Jurgen’s ears; he tries to rhapsodize how he’s wanted this for so long, how strange yet lovely it is to have sex in literal Hell. His breath is hot and Jurgen shivers. 

“What’s going on up there anyway?”

Jurgen doesn’t respond. Brady keeps kissing him. Jurgen kisses back.

“Something about a demonic toy box, right?”

Jurgen grips him tighter.

“Why did you look so mad—”

Jurgen grabbed his face and forced his lips shut. For the first time, he looked straight at Brady.

“Shut. Up.”

Brady is all at once frightened at his partner’s sudden outburst. He gives him as apologetic of a look as he can—even if he’s unsure if Jurgen can see it properly in the dark—and quietly goes back to caressing his neck.

It was only a few minutes after they had finished that Brady thought it was safe to speak again. Jurgen was never sure if it was a lack of self-awareness or just his overconfidence that made Brady so stupidly brave.

Brady had watched as Jurgen turned away from him, his breath shaking and trying to muffle some sobs. Brady placed a hand on his shoulder and reassured, “Hey, hey, c’mon, I know I’m not that bad. What’s—”

Jurgen lunged at Brady and pinned him to the ground. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Brady’s initial fear from being thrown was quickly discarded and turned to disgust as he snapped back, “I was just trying to see if you were alright. Damn, what’s your problem?”

Jurgen sunk his nails into Brady’s shoulders. His frown only deepened, and the tears were still flowing.

“Why are you crying?”

Jurgen considers how easy it would be to kill him now, if they weren’t already dead. He flinches when Brady puts a gentle hand on his arm.

He blinks a few times and lets himself fall limp, still straddling Brady.

“I don’t...it’s just...it’s not fucking fair.”

Brady was suddenly silent. All he offered Jurgen was a look of confusion and concern.

“I spent my entire life chasing after that accursed toy box; it’s the reason for every bad thing that’s happened to me. I spent over a century just trying to block it from my memory, and suddenly it’s all coming back to haunt me. Why me? Why me, Brady?”

He doesn’t have an answer, nor did he know what Jurgen was talking about at all.

“Look at you. Why did you get to live a longer life than me, a more fulfilling one than mine? To what end? To satisfy your petty revenge fetish? Why should you get to live, while I’m stuck in a wall for fifty years, or sleeping in a coffin for a century, or fucking around being someone I’m not? Why? How is that fair?”

His hands were shaking.

And they stayed that way for a long time. Brady wasn’t the best at providing comfort, even if his concern was genuine. It was only later that Brady could finally find the words to say, only after Jurgen had left and dismissed their little tête-à-tête in the closet.

“Wait, so you’re just gonna dump all your problems in my lap and act like it never happened? You’re just gonna leave it at that? Jurgen, look at me!”

The two had wandered into the main offices; ignoring the stares from the other employees, Brady grabbed Jurgen by the shoulders and forced him to turn around. 

Jurgen threw his hands up, “What do you want me to say, Brady? Do you think we’re suddenly friends now? What, you want to be my boyfriend now?”

Jurgen was suddenly aware that all eyes were on him. He winced and scanned the room; if he had a beating heart it would be racing.

“I-I have to go. I have work to do.”

Jurgen quickly turned away and made a beeline for the hallway. He waved off Brady without turning back, only finishing their conversation with a mumbled “Just leave me alone.”

And Brady never liked how that ended. It wasn't that he was mad he didn't get the last word in or that he didn't get to be the good guy, he was upset because he genuinely liked Jurgen. He hated how his first real chance with him ended in a bad argument in front of nearly everyone. There was a part of him that felt vindictive initially, that felt he deserved an apology for being brushed off. But it was this need for an apology that made him realize he just wanted a proper conclusion; he knew better than to expect someone like Jurgen to beg for forgiveness. But Brady truly _liked_ Jurgen, he wanted to have a real relationship with him, and he couldn't just leave things the way they were. It wasn’t an apology that Brady needed—it was another chance.

So being his usual cocky self, he strolled right back to Jurgen’s desk a few days later. His familiar grin was back as he leaned himself against the counter.

Before he could even speak, Jurgen interrupted him with a groan. 

“Really? We’re doing this again?”

“I know you like it when I come over here.”

Jurgen rubbed his temples. Brady straightened himself up and continued, “Before you yell at me, just listen for a second.”

Jurgen peered up and was surprised to see how honest Brady appeared. He spoke so calmly, so soberly; it was odd to see after every previous encounter like this was just playful flirting and bad jokes. 

“I...I really like you, Jurgen. I know you’re probably not going to apologize for the other day, and I honestly don’t really care about that. But I care about you. You always seem so lonely. Even if you don’t like me, I would still like to be your friend. I mean, we’re gonna have to get used to each other eventually; we’re stuck together here!” 

Brady paused to chuckle slightly. Jurgen didn’t respond.

“I dunno, I guess what I’m saying is that I’m still gonna come around here every day. I still like seeing you. So get used to it!”

He waited a moment to see if Jurgen had anything to say, but after seeing how Jurgen averted his eyes, Brady took that as his cue to leave.

“Alright,” he drummed the top of the desk with his hands as he started to walk away, “I’ll see you later.”

And Jurgen just sat there, alone in his thoughts as the muzak played on and on.

Brady kept to his word. Every day, at around the same time, he came by just to say hello. It was awkward at first, just like the first time, but it got easier with each visit. His stupid saunter in, his proud grin, and his scratchy voice always in the same eager tone. It suddenly didn’t bother Jurgen anymore. It was their routine.

* * *

Satan was waiting for an answer, though he was sure he knew it already.

Jurgen stood frozen in his tracks, completely drowned in his thoughts. He clutched his clipboard like it was the only thing keeping him afloat. 

Satan suddenly burst into laughter, and the noise made Jurgen visibly flinch.

“Oh, oh don’t tell me dear—have you grown to care about them?” He laughed harder. 

Jurgen looked up at him again without saying a word.

“No, no, don’t speak,” Satan continued between his guffaws, wiping a tear away from his eye, “Your expression says it all.” 

Satan finally cleared his throat and regained his composure. He walked over to Jurgen and put his hands on his shoulders, leaning in close. He wasn’t sure if Jurgen was still listening or if he had disassociated with the conversation completely, but he didn’t really care.

“I needed a good laugh, so thank you for that.”

Jurgen didn’t say anything, but he shifted his eyes to Satan, if only to show he was still registering his words.

“Look, if they mean so much to you, I can keep them around a while longer. You’re lucky you’re my favorite.” He smiled as he brushed Jurgen’s cheek.

A beat. Satan walked back to his desk and sat down.

“You can go now. I’ll still need you to fire some of the mailroom interns if you don’t mind, and I need those new reports proofread by the end of the day.”

Jurgen nodded, “Okay.”

“Oh, dear, don’t look so down. I’m letting you keep your little friends around.”

Jurgen stood there a second longer like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue and turned around to leave.

“Just remember,” Satan said as Jurgen left, “I’m the one in control here.”

Jurgen shut the door behind him.

The walk back seemed longer than usual.

**Author's Note:**

> i like writing oneshots in my spare time. this goes into my headcanons for what i think happened in hell during 305, and before i wrote this i scripted out a whole comic about it. maybe ill complete the comic itself past thumbnails one day. anyways...hope yall enjoyed this...see yall around. also, whos ready for the new sam and max game??


End file.
